Gringa - In the Clutches of a Ruthless Drug Lord (13 page)

             
He inches closer and drops his voice. ‘Do you know
why
they call me Tongue?’

 
             
The room erupts with laughter as my face
flames
. 

   
             
Suddenly, everyone stiffens and I see fear in their eyes. They rush out of my room, stumbling over each other in the process.

             
What the hell
...?

             
Then I hear the thundering of hooves. Diablo
.
It has to be him. Only he rides like a madman.

             
Crushed by the humiliation I just suffered, I slowly sink to my bed and suppress the urge to bawl. How do I live like this? Clearly they hate me and they’re go
ing to
make my life hell. That Tongue
, he’s
such a loathsome toad
. H
ow do I cope with him?

             
Maria enters
the room, looks at me and sighs.
She shakes her head and gives a rueful smile. ‘Senorita ... Senorita ... ’

             
Her sympathetic
look
brings tears to my eyes and I furiously wipe them away. I need to toughen up. I seem to be crying so much recentl
y. It’s really bad for my tough-chick
image.
S
he takes my hand in hers. ‘I have to be strong, Senorita
,’ she says in a solemn voice. ‘
I have to stand up and fight back or they will make me
loco
, Senorita. They will take away my
brio
. I be scared of Diablo. Nobody else
,
Senorita. They do anything to me
,
Diablo, he kill them.’

             
I nod. It’s comforting to know that I
am
somewhat
safe from them.  

             
A hurried hug and she scurries
away.

             
Fight back. Mfff
!
I’m outnumbered.

    
             
The men and women are now sitting around the huge dining table in the villa I’m in – Diablo’s villa. It’s
spacious, two
bedrooms,
two bathrooms, the largest
dinging room
I have ever seen
, a lounge
and a gourmet
kitchen. 

             
Curious, I sneak out of my room and peep into the dining room. Everyone is
there
except Diablo
. They’re
guzzl
ing
whisky, tequila and vodka. There’s a lot of high fives and back slapping
.
must be a productive day.

             
Then
,
Diablo appears and conversation halts. At the sight of him
,
I dart back to my room and shut the door. Seeing him again leaves me unhinged
.
I sit on my bed
rock like a
mental
patient.

             
Then suddenly I hear, ‘G
ringaaa!’
Diablo’s voice. 

             
I sit rigid, barely daring to breathe.

             
‘Gringaaa
!’

             
I scramble to the back of my king size bed and shove my knuckles into my mouth.   

   
             
The doorknob rattles
. S
omeone is entering
my room
. I scream into my hands
. It’s Maria.

             
‘Please come, Senorita,’ she says.
  

    
             
‘M ... Maria w
hy ...?’

    
             
‘Don’t be scared, chil
d
,’ she says and squeezes my hand. ‘Diablo
,
he just wan
t
me to join him for dinner. Tha
t
’s all.’
             

             
‘I don’t ... Oh God ... I
can’
t ... ’
 

             
‘Hush
,’, she soothes, ‘Diablo won’t
hurt me. Only if I hurt him. You his
Mujer
, you must sit at the dinner table.’

    
             
I take no comfort in her words
. T
he bastard shot me three times and threw me over the cliff without any provocation. To me, he is just a cruel freak of nature holding me captive.

   
             
‘Come eat,’ she urges, taking my
trembling
hand in hers.

   
             
I absolutely do not want to eat with them. The thought of eating any kinds of meat with them nauseates me. Having no choice and terrified I may anger the malevolent Diablo, I stand up, fight for composure and slowly trail Maria to the dinner table.

             
Maria eyes my hunched shoulders and frowns. ‘Strong, Senorita,’ she whispers, jerking her shoulders upright and raising her chin. ‘All the time, in front of everyone at Tana-Mera
. S
trong and I will be okay. I be weak, they kick me like a dog on the ground. Diablo like me, because I’m strong.
’

             
Fake it?
I can do that.

    
             
About thir
ty pairs of drunken eyes follow
me as I amble in my oversized clothing towards the dinner table.

             
Strong ... Strong ... Strong ... Shoulders straight … chin up.

             
The sniggers and the snide remarks be
gin
the moment I enter the dining room, but I grit my teeth and ignore them. Diablo is seated at the head of the table and watches me with narrow eyes.
When I get close to him, h
e growls in Spanish at Santana, who is seated at the opposite end of the table.

             
At first, Santana just gapes at him
with slack jaws.
Then her green eyes blaze
as
she argues with Diablo.
‘No!’ she finally says.

             
Christa
jerks
up
,
points to a vacant chair and argues with Diablo.

             
I don’t want
Santana’s
seat, I want to go back to my room, back into a wall and chew the last of my nails.
 

             
Diablo’s fist suddenly crashes onto the table and I jum
p. Santana quickly shuts up and
surrenders her seat to me
. Christa’s nostrils
flare as she silently sits down.

             
Santana’s shoulder brushes hard against me as she
passes me
. ‘
Put
a
!’

             
‘Sit,’ Maria mouths. 

             
Thanks to my Spanish lessons with Enfermera, I have a fair
understanding of Spanish and if they speak slowly enough, I
may get all what
they’re saying. Still haven’t progressed to
really
speaking the language though.  

             
We play musical chairs and eventually Santana is seated close to Diablo. You’d think she’d be happy with that? No.
Her bottom lip sticks out.

             
‘My clothes!’ she hisses
when she suddenly realises I’m wearing her dress
. ‘You give ’em back.’

             
Fuck off.

             
As
Maria
said,
they can’t do anything to me because Diablo will not let them.

             
Frankly, after the way she treated me earlier on, I don’t give a fuck what she thinks or feels. It is the hairy monste
r
at the head of the table
who is
unnerving me. He is openly staring at me. Everyone is staring, nobody is eating. Daunted by the eyes on me, I look for a napkin to fidget with. None is available. The fuckers do
n’t
bother with napkins. I’m really self-conscious now and I sneak a glance at my chest to see how much cleavage I’m revealing
. T
oo much. Want to be as asexual as possible right now. I surreptitiously hitch the top of my dress to cover up.
             

             
Bad move
;
Diablo’s notices my move and his gaze rests on my breasts.

             
Fuck!  

             
Strong ... Strong ... Strong ... Shoulders straight … chin up.
             

             
As
Maria
said,
Diablo’s fascination for me stems largely from the fact that I stood up to him, challenged him and did not appear intimidated by him.
God!
If only he kn
ows
.

Meanwhile,
I will maintain a false bravado and never let him see my white knuckles gripping the edge of the table.